When I drive by the county fairgrounds the week after the Fair, I'm amazed at how such a small area was so full of life for four days last week. The noisy colorful rides on the Midway, the carnival games and food stands, have all packed up and are now churning away at another fair down the line. The permanent buildings at out fair, the animal barns, the 4-H building, the local food stands are cleaned and shuttered for winter. Did it really happen? Where are the crowds of people, old folks reestablishing ties, the families giving their kids a fun time, the teenagers strutting their stuff?
The Fair is a shaking up and mixing together of normal life. For me, the Fair is a place of obligation. When our kids were small we stood by while they rode kiddie rides, checked out the animals, and ate unhealthy foods. We chatted with acquaintances we only saw at the Fair (what's his name again?). I worked a couple of shifts at the church stand, as waiter, then cook and eventually the slightly less greasy cook's helper.
In these latter days we've gotten political in an attempt to bring the pendulum back our way. Our party's booth is at the opening of one of the long low buildings where people set out their wares or promote various programs and causes. It's good to be at the end where people see us as they enter the building, but on a windy day, our placards get a workout and our handouts are blown into the next booth until we find rocks to hold them down.
We lure children into our booth by giving them candy. Parents tell their kids not to take candy from strangers, but we're not strangers- we're a registered political party serving our country. The kids spin a wheel then answer a trivia question. "What color is a giraffe's tongue? It takes a few hints until they guess purple. There are no losers at our party's booth.
Last year was the first time in years our party had a presence at the Fair. It went well thanks to the candy wheel. This year we added a float in the Tuesday parade. I got to drive a big All Terrain Vehicle covered in flags and candidate posters. Helen Bergland, Roseau County's political matriarch, sat beside me waving to well wishers. Two marchers walked in front of me carrying a banner promising better times ahead. A young boy stood behind me tossing candy to beseeching kids. Another marcher dropped candy into the buckets of the really little kids who missed out. It was a friendly crowd.
My stint at the church stand was on Friday morning and ran into the lunch rush. I had recruited two grandsons who were visiting from the east coast. They did a good job and said it was fun. We had had three beautiful days at the Fair and Friday morning had been nice too. It appeared we were going to miss the Fair's traditional rainstorm. As we are burgers after our shift in the fair stand it began to rain lightly. Just a passing cloud, I thought. But the rain started again and got heavier and Fairgoers scurried for shelter. The rain was good for business for awhile because it was dry under the stand's shutters.
It rained up to three inches that afternoon and the night's demolition derby was cancelled due to mud in the arena. Very disappointing to drivers and fans, but the cars would have gone nowhere in the mud.
When the rain quit, water was squeegeed out of the buildings and the political booths pushed candy and candidates. The food stands reopened and clouds of grease floated across the fairgrounds. Carnival generators fired up- lights blazed, wheels spun, and young people learned the eternal lesson: never ride The Fire Ball after a double cheeseburger.
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